Embers
by Midnight Raine
Summary: Takes place after "The Fellowship". The journey and ring prove too much of Frodo, leaving him shaken, and he turns to Sam for comfort. **Implied Slashy-ness**


"Embers"  
Category: Romance/Angst  
Spoilers: Do not read until you've seen/read "The Fellowship of the Ring"  
Frodo/Sam slash (or an intense friendship, depending on how you want to look at it)  
PG  
Lyrics: "This is Not A Love Song" by Tabitha's Secret  
Author's Note: My interpretation of what happened after the movie ended. I haven't read much of the book, but seeing how long it takes me to finish fics, I may have finished it by the time you read this.   
Thanks to Elizabeth and Crystal, two great writers who helped me a lot with this...  
  
Requires tolerance of slash and love of Frodo.   
  
"Some people  
Some people get lonely  
Some people they just grow older and scared of a little pain  
And we people, we cause a commotion  
We didn't mean to be confused, we didn't mean to be alive,  
And we don't want to be standing here, standing here well...  
How long have we been sleeping  
Why the hell are we awake?  
It seems just to stand here is overkill   
If I bend any further, I swear that I'll break...  
  
  
But if you hold the rain, it's just a little further  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The light from the fire threw dark shadows over the hobbit's face with each gust of wind. The smoke billowed from the fire, the thick, gray clouds wafted over to Frodo's face, the stench and dust making his eyes water. He chewed a dry lip, his sword laying across his lap. He should have been watching for orcs, or other creatures of the darkness while Samwise slept. When night fell they had found themselves nervous, and had taken shelter in a cavern, hidden out of sight by heavy greenery, yet the bushes outside allowed the smoke to drift out and carry on the north wind.  
The dark was deceiving, any squeal or sound could be from an orc or an owl, every footstep could be a night rider or a friend.   
Sam adjusted himself in his sleep, the movement causing the flame to waver.  
Frodo felt his tense muscles relax the tiniest bit.  
And what made him feel safe here? If any enemy entered, they were doomed, cornered in there little cave.  
Then again, his mind was a troubling place as well.  
The scene replayed itself again and again in his mind, there was no way to turn it off. Gandalf, falling down into the molten pits of the mines. If only he had pushed a little harder against   
Boromir's firm grip, would he have made it? Would Gandalf still be alive? Or would he have just succeeded in flailing his arms like an idiot?  
Outside, the fire warmed his weary bones.  
Inside, his heart was like ice, the pain so great he saw only shades of gray now.  
  
~~***~~  
Sam curled up tighter under his cloak, inhaling the aroma of damp earth and smoke as he faked sleep.   
He spent all his time staring at the boy in front of him through half closed lids. But now something was troubling Frodo, he could tell. Sam hung on everything he said, lingering on his every breath. And at the moment Frodo seemed... Different somehow.  
His eyes that had once shone intensely now lacked luster and energy, his endless smile exhausted. His friend seemed to just... drift along. He no longer sang or hummed, and when Sam looked back at him to check on him and verify that he was, in fact, still alive, Frodo just looked at him with pleading eyes, looking like he could drop to the ground at any second.  
Fear, maybe? He could very well still be grieving over the death of Gandalf. Sam was afraid too, they all were in their own way. Don't watch where you're going and an orc could nail you with an arrow. Run too slowly and the enemy closes in. Watching so many macabre events do terrible things to a person.  
By all logic they both should have been dead by now.  
The thoughts shook Sam, what if Arwen hadn't gotten Frodo to Rivendell fast enough? One more wraith would have been the least of their worries. Or their unfortunate encounter with the cave troll... what if Frodo hadn't worn his armor?  
What did it matter, he couldn't turn back now, neither of them could. The fate of Middle Earth hung on a thin chain around Frodo's neck, and Sam... Sam couldn't leave Frodo. He couldn't leave the already troubled hobbit to face such a tumultuous sojourn alone, especially after all they had been through. Sam's promise to Gandalf had only strengthened in death, but that was not the reason he found himself marching closer to the godforsaken fires of Mount Doom.  
If he were following anyone else but Frodo, Sam would still be on the sandy bank, watching his companion row to the eastern shore.  
And why in the world had he just waded out into the middle of the lake like that? He really hadn't gotten the brief but consuming notion that he could actually *swim*?  
Why, it was like jumping off a cliff, believing if he flapped his stubby arms fast enough he could soar through the air, graceful as a dove.  
Sam had wanted Frodo to rescue him, and prove something to him.   
That he couldn't go on without his Sam.  
~~***~~  
Hobbits aren't meant for journeying. Running at high speeds was the extent of their battle skills, and a tendency to "disappear" when being pressed by "Big People" just goes to show you that the humble creatures of the Shire weren't meant for this purpose. Singing, dancing, farming, eating... so much evil could go on and the hobbits would never know.   
Why should the ring come to a hobbit of all people?  
One by one Frodo had watched the members of the Fellowship fall, lost to the darkness until he finally left them behind, running from Boromir. Even dear old Sam, his friend since childhood and gardener for so many years.   
Sam wasn't exactly handsome, well fed with freckles and stringy brown-orange hair, and cleft chin to boot. Something about his presence was comforting, though. Sam could be both optimistic and cautious at the same time, and was fond of stories and ballads. He also had an eye for anything Elvish. And loyal, so very loyal... *And what have I ever done for him?* asked Frodo as he nodded off and began to dream...  
  
Clouds of deathly black smoke rose the heavens, choking out even the brightest stars. The flames lashed out at the sky and glowed omniously. Frodo was no longer in the cavern but back in the Shire... the burning Shire...  
The wildgrass and the fields that had surrounded the village were no more, engulfed in a sea of red-orange fire.  
Amidst the chaos sinester looking demons chased the hobbits back and forth, frothing at the mouth with remorseless faces and bloody yellow teeth. The dark, stiff hairs on their face gave them the apparence of rabid dogs.  
Black Riders ran back and forth, cackling wicked laughs and lighting the straw roofed houses like candles in the night.   
On closure inspection Frodo was standing in the charred ruins of Bag's End, shaking hard and unable to run.  
Gandalf walked slowly from the frightening scenery, a look of accusation plastered on his timeworn face.   
A feeling of nausea and pure helplessness swept over him. Frodo knew instantly that he had failed his quest. He couldn't run, couldn't wake or even close his eyes.  
"No! Stop!" he yelled, but his voice faltered.  
The gray wizard uttered nothing, but the hatred in his eyes said it all. Frodo could feel the deep resentment piercing into his soul.   
"Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried over and over.   
~~***~~  
  
Over the crackling of the fire, Sam heard Frodo let out a low moan, his eyelids dropping low over his eyes like dusk falling over a pale blue horizon.  
Frodo had fallen asleep on the job.  
Sam wrapped his thick blanket around him like a cloak, and crawled over to his companion.  
"Mister Frodo... Mister Frodo... Would you like me to keep watch now?" Frodo's eyelids fluttered, but he still did not rouse.  
Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, but Frodo jerked away.  
"I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping well lately, is all."  
"I've noticed."  
"What?" asked Frodo, a bit confused.  
Sam struggled around his truthful answer. "Well, it's hard too. You toss and turn rather fitfully."  
"You would too." His voice was small and meek, barely heard over the roaring wind outside.  
"What do you mean?"  
It was Frodo's turn to deceive. "Well... You know, sleeping on the ground and all that. Makes a body rather uncomfortable, you should know."  
Sam shook his head, then looked Frodo worriedly in the eye. "No."  
The ringbearer said nothing, and the cavern was filled with the cold, replete silence.  
"Tell me," Sam badgered on.  
"You're a good man, Samwise Gamgee, and that's why I choose not to burden you with this." He sighed, and began to poke at the fire, sparks of flame escaping into the air as he did so. Inside the den, the floor sloped down at a sharp angle, and there was no danger of the flame being seem, so long as it was kept small. Night fell swift and unnerving in this part of the mountain.  
"Master Frodo, something's troubling you. You lag behind when we walk, you barely utter a peep anymore, please, tell me what's wrong.  
Frodo shook his head, his curly black hair bouncing in all directions.  
"I'm going to fail, Sam, I know it!" he cried out, after he could no longer take the pressure.  
"No! You cannot fail! I know you'll endure!"  
"I abandoned my companions! There's no one here, Sam! No one but us!..." He painfully drew in a breath and began again: "You must not say that so surely, lest you get my hopes up."  
"You seem fairly confident."  
"Because I'm not even sure if I want to go on," whispered the ringbearer.  
"You must. You will!"  
"It's so tiring... the road seems endless... and the pain..."  
"Gandalf said--"  
"I know very well what we said. Please do not speak of Gandalf."  
"Mister Frodo--"  
"And don't call me that, either. I'm no better then you are."  
"It's not your fault."  
"You don't understand." Frodo turned his face away, looking off into the wall of packed dirt.  
Sam grabbed Frodo's hand in his, forcing him to look. "I want to understand."  
"No good deed goes unpunished. He's gone now..."  
"So don't disappoint him."  
"To watch your friend die is one thing, and to carry this weight upon your shoulders..." he trailed off. Frodo gazed into the fire, the dying flames reflecting in his misty blue eyes, sunken from lack of sleep. A tear rolled down his sooty face, creating a pale white streak in it's wake.  
"To be a ringbearer is to be alone... I can't do this alone, Sam, I can't!" He struck a fist down on his leg, oblivious to the pain.  
Sam moved his hand in comforting circles around his friend's back, trying to soothe him. "As long as I'm here, I promise you you'll never have to."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
More? Review with your suggestions, I'm always open to ideas.  
Anything urgent (or if you're just up for a chat) can be sent to nightshade320@aol.com 


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